


darling, only you can ease my mind

by cookiethewriter



Series: waiopt-verse [2]
Category: All Elite Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Sequel, waiopt sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23494057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethewriter/pseuds/cookiethewriter
Summary: sequel to we're all in our private traps. cincinnati had always been poison for one dean ambrose, but he's determined to figure out a way to make his wildest wishes come true. but the poison manages to seep into his skin anyway, complicating his mind and his life. and it doesn't help that roman is so far away...[ON INDEFINITE HIATUS!!!]
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley & Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Roman Reigns
Series: waiopt-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/944235
Comments: 38
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HERE IT IS. LOL. finally! i don't want to detract too much from what you all came here to do (read it, obviously) but i do want to say that, although times are extremely scary for some and uncertain for all of us, just know that i'm here for you. whether you need a distraction, something to help you cope or help you ignore ... sit back, grab a snack and some water, and lose yourself in my world. i promised i'd use my outlet to help, and damn it, i intend to keep it. stay safe everybody, and enjoy!!

There were few things that Dean Ambrose could be absolutely sure of, but one of those things would always be how he felt about Roman Reigns. 

From the time he was young, he could always remember feeling lost; a five year old boy wondering why mom was dropping him off at his grandparents’ house again when she promised him that they would have pizza for dinner. Years later at ten, when his best and only friend moved away, leaving him to fend off the bullies who preyed on kids like him, small and alone. He’d moved and tried to make new friends, but when no one listened to his words, they listened to his fists, and people either ran to or ran from him after that. 

He had felt lost when he first met Roman. And when he found out Rome was lost, too, and they were just a couple of lost boys just trying to figure it all out, he felt significantly _less_ like lost and more like _found_ . Befriending Roman, as much as he fought it at first, had given him a road map. Dean might even venture to say that Roman had _been_ the road map, had helped him figure things out-- who, what, where he was and who, what, where he was gonna be. 

Falling in love with him had felt as natural as falling itself. 

It started off so little like a spark in a dark place - a match struck in dark woods. It picked up, got more intense, the more they spent time with each other. Anyone who ever tried to get that close would try to force the wall down that he built so strong around his heart, and each time they failed he built the wall stronger, reinforced, but contrary to the times before, Roman didn’t force anything. When it came to Dean, he never had. He was the first person to ever ask instead of demand, soften instead of harden, and the barricades came down all on their own. 

Before he’d realized it, Roman had become so much more than a road map. 

At first it had been hard being in a long distance relationship. They hadn’t been together long - _official_ long - before Roman had left for Georgia, leaving Dean in Florida. Dean had been growing more and more impatient as his own high school tenure came to a close, and had to get a job at the gas station if only to keep himself busy until his eighteenth birthday. 

He had plans after that. A bunch of boxes he had to tick before he could finally attain that one dream he’d had since he was a young boy trying to shoulder his way through life: becoming a professional wrestler. As much as he knew Roman would have a problem with it, he would drop out of school at eighteen and take himself, his few belongings and his car and drive himself back to where it all began in order to give himself one good memory. Cincinnati, Ohio. 

That had been a few years ago. Now…

“Fuck! Shit, goddammit, motherfucker!” 

Dean slides into the kitchen of his tiny shoebox-sized apartment and quickly turns off the pot that was currently bubbling with burnt boxed macaroni and cheese. He moves the pot off the heat and on the back of the stove and waves a potholder over it to fan away the smell; it served him right to walk away from a pot of almost-done mac and cheese to close his eyes for a _second_ on the couch in the next room. Work had been demanding lately, taking more out of him than he was willing to give most days, but not having money wasn’t an option. 

Sulking that he’d burned his lunch, he contemplates picking up the pot and throwing the whole thing in the garbage, but decides against it and takes out his phone. He’d mourn the loss of his pot later, but first, he’d settle for a pizza. He’s about to punch in the number when his phone starts to ring and a familiar face fills the screen in its place. 

His aggravation melts as soon as he presses ‘answer’.

“Hey, Rome.”

“ _Hey, D. What’re you doin’?_ ”

It’s a simple question, but Dean can’t help but think up some conspiracy theory that his boyfriend is telepathic. It sure would explain a lot of the foundations of their relationship at the beginning. Still, he sighs, aggravation still licking at his brain. 

“I fuckin’ burned my food-”

“ _Again?_ ”

“ _Yes_ , smartass.” Affectionate, nothing but affection, and Roman giggles on the other side. “So I was gonna call in a pizza or somethin’ because I need to go grocery shopping on my next day off.” 

“ _Well, I’d hold off on that, ‘cause as much as I love talking to you for no reason, I told Rosey I’d talk to you._ ”

“Rosey wanted t’ talk to me? ‘bout what?”

There’s some shifting on the other end, like he’s changing position on a noisy chair, before Roman says, “ _Well, I’ll let him explain the nitty-gritty details, but he was planning on stopping by sometime in the next couple days. He asked me if I would call and make sure you were around._ ”

Dean squints at the wall, unsure. When he doesn’t answer right away, Roman continues. 

“ _I promise, you’re not in trouble. Something really amazing came up and he- he just wants to talk to you. I promised I wouldn’t say anything._ ”

“You’re killin’ me, Rome,” Dean whines.

“ _I’m sorry! I promised! And now that you’re sufficiently tortured, how’s your day been goin’, babe?_ ”

The babe thing happened once when they were hanging out, a slip of the tongue when Roman was asking a question as innocent as anything, and although it had been an accident, he never really apologized or brought much attention to it. Dean hadn’t hated it either, even to his own surprise, so Roman slipped it into normal conversation until it _became_ normal, as easy as ‘hello’ but as sweet as an ‘I love you’. 

They talk for another hour and a half before Roman bemoans something about practice, and they share drawn out goodbyes before they hang up. Dean hardly feels hungry anymore, but he knows he needs to eat something, so he finds a can of corn in his tiny pantry and opens it up, eating it cold. 

“Food for a king,” he says around a mouthful, the crunch of the goldyellow corn being about the only sound that disturbs the quiet of his small apartment, at least in the real world. Inside his head, however, it’s not _quite_ so quiet.

_...told Rosey I’d talk to you._

_...planning on stopping by…_

_...something amazing…_

...and no matter how loud and obnoxious he chews, he can’t seem to quiet the thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter warning: brief mentions of child abuse - both physical and emotional. it comes and goes in the blink of an eye, but please be safe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i got the reactions i was looking for. let's get into it. c:

He doesn’t get like this all the time, but when he  _ does _ it can be hard to shake himself out of it. 

Being here, where his story began, was the least helpful thing he could have done for himself, but Dean has grown a lot since that lost, broken boy that left this awful place, or at least he’d like to think so. When he was a young kid, he hadn’t known that there was a better way, because there were a lot of people he’d grown up with that were born into the same muck and slime that he was. Now that he’d gotten a taste of something better, he hoped they didn’t succumb to it. 

But even a guy who knew there was light at the end of the Cincinnati tunnel had his moments, and tried as he might, it could sometimes hit him square in the jaw when he couldn’t see it coming. 

This time, it had come in the form of a weighted reminder of who he once had been when he was making his way to work late at night. No person was awake unless they  _ had _ to be, but despite it being so late, there was life clinging to the brick sides of buildings, making transactions, trading goods, soliciting passers-by who were either too tired or too drunk or otherwise encumbered to tell them no.

He could see in the distance a couple of figures standing off to the side away from him, passing something back and forth. Dean tried not to give them any attention, lest he get caught up in whatever deal was taking place. He only had to take a few minutes’ walk past the drug deal to see a couple hookers dressed to the nines in fishnet stockings and tops that were mostly tits. He walks by them too, quickly says “ _ No _ ” when they ask him to bum a cigarette. 

No matter how much he tried, how hard he fought, memories that played like nightmares in his head plagued him, made him remember that before they left Cincinnati and ended up finding where he thought he might plant his roots, mom had done those things. She stopped when he started school, at least dealing drugs, choosing instead to clean other people’s houses during the day and, when they were really,  _ really _ desperate, hooking. It was because of her that they stayed ahead of rent. He loved her so much. 

The bad memories involved her, too, though. 

She did what she could to keep him warm and fed, but because she worked during the day and came home around suppertime, she couldn’t have kept him safe between when he got out of school and then. When he was first starting school, he stayed at Gramps’ place, but after a while he wanted to prove what a big, strong man he was, and he’d get himself home. And sometimes … sometimes, he was home alone. That hadn’t been that bad. But, on a few occasions … his …  _ sperm donor _ was waiting for him. 

Mom couldn’t protect him from those nights, when the old man was almost always drunk, or high, was unable to shield him from whatever toxic waste spilled out of his old man’s mouth. Sometimes it was the belt he’d get, punishing him for getting a snack before dinner, saying he wasted the food they -  _ they _ , as in, both mom  _ and _ him, even when he got sacked from jobs before his third payday - bought. But what was worse than the physical wounds were the mental, when he told him how worthless he was when he couldn’t reach a bottle of beer in the back of the fridge. How  _ stupid _ he was. 

He was  _ eight _ . 

Sometimes his shoulder still ached. A reminder that just because the scared, battered boy was out of the place that scared and battered him, didn’t mean he was away from the bad things forever. Baron had seen to it that he never forgot what his skin looked like without a bruise, what his bones felt like without some sort of ache. He’d never wanted to have another family aside from mom and Gramps. They were all he needed. He had a stepfather and stepbrother for way too long before things got better for him. 

The memories, the phantom aches, they keep him from moving on completely from the first life he led here. If Roman was here with him, it might be different - they might not go away, but at least he could have somewhere to lay his head while it gets weighed down by every bad thing that had ever happened. 

But the phone call the other day … that was definitely something. At least it served as enough of a distraction that he could focus on that, and why he came here in the first place, and if the two have anything in common. 

He hopes they do. 

* * *

Dean isn’t aware that he drifted off folded up on the couch until the knock on his door woke him up, made him jolt up in his spot and nearly fall on the ground with the speed of it. It takes him a couple seconds to figure out where he is, that it’s some time in the early afternoon, and that the only people who know where he lives were Gramps, his landlord obviously, and mom. Narrowing his eyes, he starts to walk toward the door and peeks through the peephole.

Big guy, HWA tee shirt, eyes that were a deep brown but were a little different from ones he wished could be staring in at him right now … and he unlocks the door and quickly swings it open to grin at Roman’s older brother, Rosey. 

“Hey, li’l  _ Uce _ , how’s it hangin’!”

“Hey, uh. Hi? It’s … hangin’? C’mon in, dude.” 

Rosey walks inside, grinning as he does. “Hey so, did Rome tell you what’s what?” 

“Uh … no? He said he was gonna leave that t’you.”

“Oh good, good.” Rosey turns around inside the apartment, taking everything in: there was a small kitchen to the immediate right, closed off from the entryway but open to the rest of a decently-sized living room for a single person. There were two doors down a small hallway, one for his bedroom and one for the small, shitty bathroom. “Dude, this place ain’t bad. Bigger than the box I lived in when I first came here, that’s for  _ damn _ sure. When’s your lease up, dude?” 

“A couple months I think. Why?”

Rosey takes up a spot against the wall despite Dean’s cautious beckoning to sit in the living room. “Okay, so it goes like this. The place I dipped my toes in when I first got started is looking for new bodies by next summer. The guy who owns it gave me a call and asked if I knew anybody that was interested in a spot and I told him I did.” Walking over, Rosey drops his big hands on Dean’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze in his excitement. “This is it, man. I can train you, get you ready for summer. All you gotta say is yes, Ambrose.” 

There’s a split second when he forgets to breathe, sucking air in so quickly and so  _ sharply _ that he starts gasping spastically; this was  _ it _ ! His life’s dream was right there, right in front of him, staring him in the fucking face and he couldn’t drag a single sound out of his mouth other than the hacking. It didn’t seem real. It felt fake. Was this real? Was this real life right now, the brother of his best friend and partner telling him  _ straight to his fucking face _ that his dream was only one word away from becoming a reality?

Dean gets control of himself with a final hack, pounding a hand on his chest, and he blames the tears in his eyes on the coughing fit he’d just endured. Nodding his head furiously, he drags his hands through his hair and starts pacing, muttering under his breath,  _ Look at me now, asshole _ , before he marches right up to Rosey and looks him right in the eye, determination and confidence coming off him in waves. 

“ _ Fuck _ yes.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so! this is where i introduce one of a few secret mini-plots within this sumbitch. if you can guess what it is, i'd be willing to tell you if you're right or not. but onward, to where i sow some seeds for later harvest. c:

Dean expects to feel tense after Rosey takes his leave, but what he _actually_ feels is relief; his dream of becoming a wrestler, as silly as it had seemed once upon a time, was finally becoming fucking _real_ and he’s feeling especially grateful today because of it. Grateful for Rosey, for giving him the chance; grateful for mom, for not stifling his creative mind and fierce determination even if she didn’t fully understand; for Roman, who taught him that just because people told him he couldn’t didn’t mean shit when he knew in his heart that he _could_ . This was the first time he had looked toward his future and he didn’t feel like he was signing himself over to darkness, like mom, like… _him_.

The word _future_ hadn’t meant a damn thing before he’d met Roman. Now, he's pretty sure the two exist together.

There’s no question who the first person he thinks to call is, tears pricking the corners of his eyes; he’s got half a mind to just let them fall, because it wasn’t like anyone was going to see him fall to pieces. He doesn’t mind crying, just when people are around when he does it, and when he hears a familiar “ _Hey, babe,_ ” it coaxes the damn tears out, a tiny blubber stuck in his throat. 

“H-Hey, Rome. You’ll never guess-” 

“ _Wait, are you okay? Are you crying?_ ”

“Yeah yeah,” he says it quickly, trying to get to the news. “You’ll never guess, Rome, I swear ta’--”

“ _Yeah, tell me!_ ”

Dean wipes the heel of his hand on his cheek, wiping thick, warm streaks away from his mouth as he continues talking. “Rosey stopped over an’ said that the place where he started is gonna have tryouts in the summer. Rome, he wants to train me. Get me ready.” 

“ _Dean, that’s amazing!_ ” Dean’s little splutters as he tries to get hold of himself look ridiculous, but he’s not exactly a pretty crier, so he’s not too worried about it. “ _I’m so happy for you, holy fuck._ ”

Dean’s tears are a little overwhelming, but he’s able to say with a thick, watery voice, “Love you,” as he peels off his tee shirt and buries his face into it to stem the flow, wiping his face with it. “Holy shit. That was embarrassing.” 

The way Roman hums through the phone is sort of comforting, and Dean clears his throat, pushing the hoarseness out. “ _Don’t worry about it. You know I don’t mind. So, when do you start training?_ ” 

“He told me he was gonna open his house to me. Guess he’s got an extra room he don’t use, so while I wait for my lease to be up, he’s gonna get it ready for me. We’re gonna start after that.” 

“ _Wish I could be there with you. I’m about_ _this_ _close to saying ‘fuck football’ and watchin’ you follow your damn dreams._ ” 

“Can’t do that, Rome. You finally love it again.”

“ _Love you, too_.”

“Damn sap.” 

Roman giggles, and Dean can’t help but puff out a laugh too. He tries not to think about anything other than the sound of Roman’s laughter, the deep rumble that sounds only deeper through the phone. Didn’t even think it was possible to get much lower. As Dean settles into the couch and tosses his shirt onto the floor across from him, he tries to focus on anything but the fact that Roman was so willing to throw away something he cares for so deeply just to … he can’t deal with that. He _has_ to distract himself. 

“So, I was thinkin’ of comin’ to visit you soon. That okay?” 

“ _That sounds more than okay. Got a date for me yet?_ ”

Dean stretches out on the couch, getting comfortable. “Not yet. Wanted to go while you were still playin’ so I could watch. How much longer you got?”

There’s some shifting on the other end of the line, the sound of a mattress creaking, before Roman hums. “ _I have a bit to go. About another month. A few more games, then I wait for spring training._ ” 

He hums, thinking, and conversation switches from football and wrestling to school and work. Dean wishes they could talk on the phone forever - he _actually_ wishes they were talking face to face - but unfortunately, Dean has things he has to do today before he inevitably settles in for some sleep before work. Still, he can’t help but want to cling to the sound of Roman’s voice just a _little_ while longer. 

It’s Roman who spoils the fun though, and Dean’s pretty sure there’s a part of him that isn’t surprised. “ _Sorry to cut this short, babe, but I’ve gotta run. I’ll text you in a bit, okay?_ ”

When Dean sighs, he does so with his entire body. “Fiiine. I’ll let ya know if I find out when I’m comin’.” 

“ _Done deal. Love you, babe._ ” 

“Yeah, love you too.” 

Dean drops his phone onto his stomach and stares up at the ceiling. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it, other than the fact that it’s holding his attention in it’s claws, sucking the ambition from his bones; he had some money kicking around still, was going to treat himself to a walk around town before he picked up essential groceries, but the longer he lays there, the quieter his mind becomes and the more he ponders if he should just lay here instead. 

He must have been lying there for almost twenty minutes before a text from Roman pings from his stomach and he looks down, picks up the phone, and groans as he sits up. It’s a picture of him wearing a pair of stylish sunglasses, his hair down, goatee trimmed and mouth wide in a smile. _Wish you were here_ is the caption, followed by a kissy-face, and Dean feels the corner of his mouth twitch up before he presses his finger to some buttons to save the picture. 

* * *

Time moves at a snail’s pace over the next week, but Dean at least gets some good news: he gets approved for some time off, which feels like something of a relief considering his brain hadn’t exactly been the most helpful, _again_. It was like, for every step forward it has to take a few back again, to remind him who he was and what the fates thought he deserved to be - the unfortunate accident of a junkie and a whore. His mom had told him, over and over, that he was not a product of her nightwalking, had promised that she didn’t think of him as a mistake, and he did believe her. 

It has something to do with Cincinnati. Something about his hometown was like poison, but he could grin and bear it for a little while longer. He and Roman had talked about finding a place together eventually, before he’d overcome the almost _impossible_ task of telling him how he felt, so he didn’t want to dig his heels too deeply into the Cincinnati soil when he knew this wasn’t a permanent thing. All he had to do was wait. 

Waiting was something that he had a lot of practice doing. He can remember, with vivid clarity, mom on the foot of his bed as he was curled underneath his comforter. His old man had come home drunk again, yelling at him to ‘get the hell out of the way’ and for mom to ‘comfort the little shit’ when he started trembling. At the time he was six, and he can remember mom quietly crying as she rubbed his leg under the blanket. “ _I_ _t’s okay, baby,_ ” she would say in a voice barely above a whisper. “ _Just wait a little longer. We’ll be able to go where he can’t yell at or hurt us ever again. All you have to do is wait, and hold on for me, Jon-boy…_ "

...a sharp gasp, then he sits up in bed. The way the blanket feels under his palms is almost foreign as the memory slowly fades to nothing back in the recesses of his mind. 

Where … where had _that_ come from?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's about time i add some ambreigns to this fic, eh? c: enjoy!!

When the day comes that it’s time to head to Georgia, Dean wastes no time throwing some clothes into his old school backpack and some essentials and getting the hell on the road; he hadn’t seen Roman since the summer, not including the couple of times they would video chat, so he was a little antsy to see him in person. He kept up with his games, too, when he wasn’t too tired, his eyes finding Roman’s jersey easily and following every play he made … even if he didn’t understand it, really. He was more a baseball and hockey man, but he supported his guy no matter what. 

The drive is boring, but he’s got music to keep him company. He had packed some snacks for the drive and a water bottle, but he probably wouldn’t consume any of it so he wouldn’t have to stop. The sooner he got to Roman the better he’d feel, that was all he was thinking about. 

He had left early in the morning, and by the time he got there, it was almost time for Roman to be at practice. That seemed like the perfect time to hurry and get to the football field without being seen. He had been here once before, but Roman had driven and it wasn’t during football season, so he was excited to see a football practice for the first time in a while. 

When he found a place to park that wasn’t obvious, he grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. The walk is comfortable and quiet as he avoids groups of people headed back to the dorms and tries to follow the path until he gets to the football field. When bleachers come into view, he quickly hops up onto the second or third row, and is a little surprised to see sparse other students sitting on them too, talking about class or something, he barely pays attention. At least not until the football team starts headed toward the field to start scrimmages, and then, his attention is strictly on them. 

_ Where are ya, _ he thinks to himself, eyes scanning the group of guys as they jogged out. It doesn’t take him long to find him, to lock on like a Roman-seeking missile, and  _ damn _ . Something about seeing him in person after so long, it just … took his damn  _ breath away _ . When they first met, Roman had been tall and thin, not as lanky as him, but definitely not like now. He had filled out in  _ all _ the best ways, muscles in most places and skin that still had some give to it in others, and Dean really can’t stop taking him in. 

His tongue darts out to lick between his lips, a quick movement. Suddenly he regrets wearing jeans instead of something looser, but he’s  _ definitely _ glad he has a sweatshirt he can wrap around his waist. 

He isn’t noticed for a while, and that’s okay. Some students try to engage him in conversation - “ _ Do you understand this? _ ” “ _ Did you do the reading? _ ” No, and no - but instead of getting the chance to explain that he didn’t go to school here, he hears a couple girls from behind him whistling and cheering. 

“Isn’t that Roman cute?” one of them says. 

“He’s  _ gorgeous _ ! Em said when she tried to ask him out, he turned her down and said he’s already in a relationship.”

“Bummer! I bet we can find out who she is, no doubt.” 

“Oh, for  _ sure _ ! ...oh, here he comes! Roooman, hiiii!” 

Dean can feel his jaw working inside his mouth, teeth grinding together - did Roman know that girls fawned over him like this? He’d heard it in high school too, all the time, from all his classmates. There was … no  _ way _ he didn’t know. But then, he hears his name get called and he looks up. 

“Dean! I thought you were comin’ tomorrow!” He’s sweating, Roman is, face flushed and body hot from exercise. Dean steps down a couple rows until he can stand on the first row, bending over slightly to grin at him. Roman waves at the girls, flashing a polite smile, before Dean leans back slightly. Do they know … has he told anybody about them, about … him? 

Suddenly, he feels his chest ache. 

“You know me, Rome. ‘m pretty unpredictable.” 

“That you are. Hey, I have a bit more to go, but my foot’s starting to hurt a bit. Kiss for luck?” 

Then, Dean’s face immediately lights up. How Roman knows what he’s thinking, he’s never been able to figure it out. Dipping in for a couple of pecks, he shoos Roman off before climbing back up to his spot, grinning at the girls as he does. They look shocked, but when he sits down and gets comfortable again, they start to squeal behind him. Shaking his head, he gets right back to contentedly watching Roman’s ass in those uniform pants. 

* * *

Roman leaves practice a little earlier than the rest of the team, limping his way back to the bleachers. As bad as he stinks of sweat, Dean gets right up under his arm, standing up straight to add that extra bit of height to take weight off his guy’s ankle. They quietly talk until they get to a tall building and Roman points the way to his room on the second story. Dean’s relieved to ride the elevator up and when Roman tells him which room is his, he gets them the rest of the way there. 

The dorm isn’t huge, but it’s bigger than his bedroom at the apartment. Two beds sit in the right corner and left respectively, a desk by the foot of one and a dresser by the other. There’s a closet near the door, and Roman shares that down the hall a little is a communal bathroom. He assures Dean he can get himself into a shower from there, gives him a kiss on the bridge of his nose, and grabs his pile of pajamas. Before he leaves, he points to the bed on the far right and says “That one’s mine. Roommate’s spending a couple of nights over at his friends’ dorm, so you and I will have some privacy.” 

That makes Dean’s stomach flutter. He nods, and Roman goes to shower. That gives him time to slip off his sneakers, swing his backpack off his shoulder, and immediately start changing into a pair of shorts. Putting his bag on the desk chair, he sends himself back onto the blanket and scoots back to lay against the pillow, breathing deeply into it; Roman told him he’d been using some fancy oil in his hair to make it smooth and healthy or whatever, and the smell seeps into his very skin as he tries to get himself further into the pillow. 

He’s a little too glad to be here, in Roman’s room, waiting for him to come back. 

After a little while, Roman comes back in with his uniform balled up and shoved in a bag, his hair pulled up in a bun and shiny. He certainly smelled better, which he opened his mouth to remark on with a teasing glint in his eyes before Roman gives him a warning, playful glare. “Don’t say it, Ambrose. I’ll make you sleep in the hallway.” 

“Nah, you won’t.” Dean smirks, sitting up and scooting back to the edge of the bed to lean on his knees, “Ya love me too much.” 

“Ugh, you’re right. Lucky for you.” Then, Roman swoops down and kisses him. “Hi.” 

“Hey yourself.” Then, with a wider grin and a playful sparkle in his eye, “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” 

Roman giggles, smiling big and ducking his head a little bit. Maybe Roman  _ didn’t _ know how people fawned over him. Would explain the shy look on his face. 

After a bit, Roman stands up straight and starts walking toward the closet, and Dean smirks and swings his hand out to smack his ass with his palm. He’d never heard Roman yelp before, and when he does, he starts to chuckle low in his throat then flashes his best innocent smile. Roman gets this look in his eyes then and tosses his dirty uniform in the closet with little care and closes it a little hard before whirling around on Dean. 

“Think that’s funny, huh?” 

Dean shrugs. “Ya make it sound like you didn’t like it.” 

For a moment, Roman’s mouth starts flapping, like he’s trying to come up with something to say, before he just grumbles and sticks out his tongue. An inner part of Dean just softens right up, because it was a testament to how much Roman had eased up since he had met him that he didn’t just shut down when he wasn’t sure what to do or say. Dean did that often, just got quiet and annoyed. 

They really were a perfect complement to each other - two puzzle pieces that fit together by accident - and it was obvious in ways that he hadn’t ever realized before. 

“C’mere,” Dean says. “You got anything else to do today?” 

“You mean, aside from feeding us and doing my homework? Nah.” Roman shuffles over, preparing to sit next to him, but Dean puts his arm out to stop him and pulls him against his face, putting his cheek on Roman’s stomach. “Hey. What’s up?” 

Perhaps he had eased up, too. Meeting Roman remained to be one of the best things to happen to him. He’s not sure what would happen, what  _ would have _ happened, if he hadn’t run out of the house for a moment of untainted peace and quiet. Never would he have thought he’d feel something for somebody else like this, guy or not, and when it turned out Roman and he were best friends, it was all over. He thought he’d lose him if he wanted this too much, but fast-forward a few years and here he was, hugging around the waist of his best friend and boyfriend and just … breathing in his soap and the smell of his skin and just holding on tight else he disappear under his hands. 

But Roman’s always been good with him, can read him like he’s the only one who knows his language, and just runs his thumbs on Dean’s shoulders. It felt nice to just … hold on for a minute, touch him. 

“This long-distance shit sucks.”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s almost over.” His voice is quiet, low, but sympathetic, almost agreeable. “But I know.” 

Dean lets go, feeling calmer than he had before, and Roman grins at him. Dean’s mouth quirks up too, slight but there. 

“I’ll do my homework tomorrow,” Roman sighs, but with enough resolution that it sounds like he had made the decision before saying it aloud, “I think I’m gonna make us some food and just … be with you a while.” 

“You just want me to touch your butt again.” Smirk. Roman’s echoing giggle is slight and telling. 

Sure enough, after Dean lets him go, Roman takes out a hot plate and plugs it in, as well as a small frying pan. Dean watches with interest as he proceeds to make them some grilled cheese with pieces of ham and tomato between them. There was a bag of snacks next to the desk on the other side, and he tosses a small bag of chips to Dean who catches it easily, and Roman dishes up their sandwiches and grabs some peanut butter crackers for himself and before he can tell him not to, Dean hops onto Roman’s bed and makes himself comfortable. It’s worth it to see the look of resignation and acceptance on his face, no doubt, and Roman climbs up too and eyes him like ‘You make a mess, I  _ will _ get you back for earlier’ and Dean grins all smug. 

They eat in quiet, enjoying the company and not needing the conversation to fill the space. When they’re done, Roman tosses the paper plates in the garbage and lets the pan and hot plate cool so he can wash them in the sink in the recreation room. For now, he lays on the bed and Dean follows suit, choosing to lay with his arms and legs out like a starfish to try to take up as much space as possible on the bed that wasn’t his, and Roman snorts. 

“Brat.” 

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘My brat’. Wouldn’t have you any other way, asshole.” 

Dean smiles, what feels like the first one in a long while. Roman curls his arm so his hand is in Dean’s hair, splaying his fingers along his forehead, and pulls his head in so he can kiss him. It’s such a serene moment, just laying there kissing for a while, and eventually Roman just lays his forehead against Dean’s and lets their noses touch. Dean peeks at him through his eyelashes, tongue darting out to taste the salt on his lips from Roman’s crackers. He can’t help but look at him, watch, but eventually his eyes grow heavy. 

He falls asleep with Roman’s fingers tangled in his hair, warmth bouncing off of his body and permeating Dean’s skin, and he feels weighted and warm. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not saying that this story isn't still on indefinite hiatus. but i /am/ saying that i had a random burst of muse because i watched somebody fantasy-book deanathan's heel turn and all the guy kept saying was "and dean. LOVES. roman reigns" and i was like "-tears in eyes- yeah, yeah he does." so. here ya go. 
> 
> this is not an official return, but if you can be patient with me, i have a lot of stuff in the works for fandoms such as: inuyasha, fruits basket, dragon quest xi, and an original work. (see next)
> 
> i'm writing an original story on tumblr and posting it on wattpad! it's called "ain't no fairytale" and i love it a LOT. if you're interested, go check both on tumblr and wattpad (on wattpad, i'm also 'cookiethewriter') 
> 
> please enjoy. and please continue to be patient with me. c:

There was something beautiful about watching someone being in their element, and for Roman, that meant football; he had seen glimpses of it in high school, not really caring one way or the other about it back then, but when Roman started to mean something to him, he started to care a little more about watching him play. Back then, of course, the way he wore his jersey was like it was his strongest suit of armor, and the football was his battlefield as he tackled people left and right. 

He hoped it’d be the same for him but with wrestling. 

It’s a profoundly different feeling watching him now, though, a smile on his face like this was a private game with his friends in his backyard. He can hear teasing remarks but not enough to hear what’s being said, but the bubbling laughter that comes from his boy’s very soul is unmistakable. It pulls a smile to his face as he watches Roman running around, shoulder-checking dudes in one direction and getting to the other side to tackle another. Looks like he’s having so much fun, and Dean is so relieved. 

It looks like he has a good team to play with, too, hearing calls from Roman to the others and them following the orders he gave; he remembered Roman being a commanding presence before, probably because he was so quiet and stony like a damn statue. He was a statue alright, a damn Samoan god statue. 

He doesn’t really follow football for football’s sake, just knows that Georgia’s victorious in their game, and the team all huddles in a victory group-hug. Dean’s not sure if he should meet Roman at the fence or whatever, so he simply watches. Behind him, he can hear a voice saying “ _ That Reigns is something else! _ ” and he couldn’t agree more. His boyfriend  _ was _ something else, indeed. 

The team all start to head back toward the locker room, and Dean sort of just sits there, unsure, before he sees Roman break away and start jogging in his direction. 

“The team’s goin’ out for pizza then headed back to the rec room to hang, maybe drink a little. Wanna go?” He knew it wasn’t a question of if  _ Dean _ was joining them, but if the  _ two _ of them would join, and that hit Dean weird. Invitations were rare even before all the bullshit in his life started to happen, but never had it been a situation where he was making the decision for not just himself but himself  _ and _ a partner. Hell, not even himself and a friend. 

Dean hums thoughtfully. “I guess? I dunno, did you wanna do that?” Then, he leans in a little close so just he could hear, “I ain’t exactly legal yet.” Purely because he figured Roman would care. Then, Roman surprises him.

“When has that ever stopped you?” A chuckle, then, “You’ll be with me, so no worries. It’s close enough, right?” 

Dean blinks, a little wide-eyed, a little slack-jawed. “Holy shit, Rome, what have I done to you?” 

It’s weird to see an expression on his face that he usually saw on mom’s face, or his own in the mirror, but he’s got this little smug grin on his face that Dean isn’t sure if he wants to smack it off or kiss it. He opts for neither, considering he needs to answer Roman’s initial question while they’re both still young. Brushing his fingers through his longer hair and gripping onto it, he shrugs his shoulders. 

“You know I’m down. Plus I get to embarrass you in front’a your friends, win-win-win: pizza, beer, and you.”

“Oh, the guys will embarrass me, too. I’m not safe in this situation, but they also have wanted to meet you since I started playin’ here. And I want you to meet them. I think you’ll like a couple of ‘em.”

Dean grins a bit, nodding his head, and Roman starts to turn away. “You’re welcome to stay put for a few minutes or come with. The guys are gonna bring the food so all we gotta do is show up.” 

It wasn’t a difficult decision, he thinks, as he slips off the cold bleachers and follows Roman in the direction of the locker room. He doesn’t intend on going inside, not wanting to burst bubbles that could get Roman in trouble - and, also, not interested in seeing half-naked bodies that aren’t a very specific one - so when they make it inside and to the locker room door, he leans up against the wall and rubs his hands together, watching his fingers grip each other like they have no feeling. 

When Roman comes back out, his hair is up in a smooth ponytail and he smells like plain soap. He’d changed from his football uniform to a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt that showed off the muscles in his shoulders and his stomach, not as flat as it used to be and Dean didn’t care an ounce. Not when he saw the smile on Roman’s face as he came back through the door, leaving the raucous laughter and catcalls behind and instead bending a little to kiss Dean on the bridge of his nose, obviously meaning to aim for his lips. Blinking up at him, he gives Roman a slight smile, before poking him in the stomach. 

“So, we goin’ back to the room, or what?” 

“I think so. It’ll take them a bit to get to the place and wait for the pies. Gives me time to maybe work on some homework until the festivities begin. I don’t want to be doin’ it the whole time you’re here … which is how long, again?”

“Well, I asked for a few days off, and I usually have weekends off, so. A few more days.” 

“Oookay. Well, if I spend the rest of the night with you and dedicate time tomorrow to getting my work done, that should leave us the afternoon.” 

“Cool, cool, cool.” 

They walk back to the dorm pretty hastily, Roman’s arm around Dean’s shoulders and Dean’s arm around Roman’s waist. There’s not too big a height difference between them, just enough that Roman’s arm fits perfectly around Dean, and while a few years back he might have shrugged away from how much …  _ touching _ Roman wanted to do, the closeness he wanted to have, Dean’s the farthest from complaining. Turned out he didn’t mind it so much, especially when it’s the kind of touch, the kind of closeness, that didn’t leave marks. 

...of course, some  _ did _ leave marks. But those were  _ so _ different. And very rare. 

It had been around the middle of Roman’s sophomore year when things became a little different for them, as a ‘them’. It was certainly territory that they hadn’t really thought to cross before, but on a sunny summer afternoon when Roman went home for the summer and Dean went to visit for a week, they were sitting on the beach and he remembered one second, it was peaceful and easy and warm, and the next … it was hot, stifling almost, and his stomach was in knots as Roman distractedly kissed the side of his salt-slicked shaggy curls, mouthing near his ear, down to his neck … and that had been the start. 

Each time they were in the same space, something would always happen. It usually started with kissing, sometimes Dean would hold on to clothes or hair or whatever was around him, and their bodies were  _ so _ in sync with each other that they’d just … melt together. It never got further than the occasional mark on a neck or reddened lips or none-too-inconspicuous proof of how it affected them, but they weren’t around each other enough for anything more to happen. No more progression, no … no  _ relief _ . 

It sure did keep Dean up sometimes, thoughts of times like that. Especially when his brain decides to act out the rest of the moment, hands that grip and sounds and  _ heat _ and-- 

\--and walking into the dorm, just the two of them, his mind drifting while they walked had certainly awakened some of those fluttery feelings in his gut, and he purses his lips before dropping himself onto the bed, face-down. 

Roman seems unperturbed by the action, instead ducking into the little fridge to grab a cold water bottle and uncapping it, taking a few gulps. Dean adjusts his head so he can look with one eye, his eyebrow furrowing before he sits up slightly, turning around so he can fully take Roman in; he looks all loose and comfortable, like he was sated, and it’s a look Dean’s beginning to like on him. In his distracted drinking, he doesn’t see Dean just watching him, but when he does finally notice, it makes Dean try to scramble for what to do or say, like they hadn’t been in a relationship for the last couple of years. Raising an eyebrow, Roman looks at Dean warily. “What?” 

“Nothing!” he’s had to fight hard to keep the defensive tone out of his usual voice, but this time it makes it through, and both of Roman’s eyebrows rise now. “Nothing, okay? I’m just … lookin’.” 

As if that meant he was a mess, Roman looks down at his tee shirt, down at his pants and all the way around himself as much as he can manage before he rubs at the side of his face with a few fingers. “At what? I got somethin’ on me?” 

Dean knows Roman can be a little … well, innocent, sometimes. So where he might feel a tad frustrated that he’s got to spell shit out sometimes, he also finds it incredibly endearing, so he shakes his head fondly. “Nah, nothin’.” 

He wants to bring it up  _ so _ bad. Wants to do something about the feeling in his stomach whenever he looks at Roman now, but try as he might, talking about stuff isn’t easy for him. It was hard enough to rip off the ‘feelings for your best friend’ bandaid and, admittedly, that had been okay. This was different though, he knew, and it was made harder with the distance. The friendship had also made it a little harder, too, because it’s not very likely that things would ever be the same after that step was made, and he’s not sure he can handle that. 

It could get better, or it could get worse. Try as he might, he can only see the latter.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow and talk to me on tumblr!! i'm cookiethewriter!


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